That Little Dot
by Kitties Like Stripes
Summary: A staccato looks like a little dot and nothing more. It's a lot like the fight between Queens and Manhattan all those years ago; it didn't seem like a big deal. Harley will tell you differently. SkitteryXOC. Rated T for language and situations. R&R.


Chapter 1 End of "Good Times"

**A/N: **My first true continuous _Newsies _story! Another one will be started here soon, but until then, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not nor will I ever own _Newsies_. Wish I did… But, oh well! However, I do own Harley "Staccato" Cordell and her official design.

**That Little Dot**

Short, _not _sweet, and _definitely not _to the point: just these three small, negative phrases summed up Harley Cordell perfectly. The latter two things didn't affect her nickname as much as the first, but added a bit of irony to it. That tiny little dot above a single note changed it completely; it was shorter, it stood out from the crowd. And so did "Staccato," but she could never bring herself to be "to the point" on subjects.

Short was never meant to refer to her smaller frame, but simply her short-fused temper. Once the other's realized that the adjective could refer to more than one of her features, however, it spread like wildfire, causing her already-strained patience to become almost nonexistent.

So, put her notable traits together with her love for the written sound, and you have one "rough around the edges" newsgirl.

Harley "Staccato" Cordell, at your service.

Harley was one of the very few newsgirls living in Queens in the year 1899. Being so, she didn't have very many friends, save for Filly, another newsgirl she had become acquainted with. No sir, she had no friends, no "sisters" or "brothers" so to speak. Instead, Harley had music. But that's a story for another time.

So, as she did most days, Harley found herself hanging out with the other Queens newsies after the sales of the afternoon edition. She sat on the steps of the Lodging House, slumped back against the stairs and a cigar hanging loosely from her teeth. Filly stood beside her, leaning back against the front wall with her usual smile about her face. Others included Swing, Marty, and Slash, but they were talking about something Harley didn't particularly care about.

"But, anyway, as I was saying," Filly continued after a momentary muttering by Harley, "He was _so _coming on to me. But I told him, 'Hey, buddy, I'm here to sell, not make love.'"

"Bull. You didn't say that," Harley replied with her usual sharpness, rolling her eyes up to look at the one she was conversing with. "You enjoy attention from guys like that."

"Well…" Filly smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, you're right. But still, I have a job to do, and I'm gonna do it right!"

"Can I get that in writing?"

Just as Filly was about to act hurt and demand an apology, a swarm of Queens newsies ran up to Lodging House, all with scared and frantic faces.

Harley jumped to her feet, flinging her cigar to the ground and putting it out with a quick stomp. "What's going on?"

They stopped in front of them, those sitting outside the house. Ashes, a newsie at the front of the group, doubled over and looked up at her. Between his desperate pants, she made out shocking words.

"Jeremiah… He's dead!"

No one had believed the little newsie named Ashes when he had first told them that their leader was dead. Only when a few of the bigger boys from the back brought forth the bloody and bruised body did their eyes widen in horror.

Filly took a few steps back. "Wh-what… What on earth happened to Jeremiah?"

Poor Ashes was shaking by this point, back on his feet but intently watching the ground as though it would bring back their lifeless leader. "He was… He was just walking, minding his own business… Th-then _they _showed up…" "They" was spat out of his mouth as though it was acid on his tongue.

Bobby, Ashes's older brother, patted him on the back and stood up to the plate. "They… He's referring to the 'Hattan bunch."

Marty growled. "What the hell do they want?"

You see, no one on the Queens side particularly liked the Manhattan newsies. There had been a brawl a few years back over some owed money, some broken hearts, common things when you lived on the streets. But, as they say, boys will be boys, and said boys (on both sides, no matter what either group told you) used whatever they could find as weapons of warfare against each other. Three newsboys didn't make it home that night; two Manhattan, one Queens. And no matter what anyone tells you, no one reconciles after a fight like that.

Bobby turned his attention momentarily to Marty, but his reply was loud enough for all to hear. "Jerry was the one that owed all the money. Guess Kelly didn't think it was fair that the instigator didn't go down that night… Or maybe they wanted the score to be even. One just wasn't enough."

Swing spoke next. "Look, I know he's their leader… But I doubt Kelly was the one to plan all this. Jack wouldn't do that, he's not that bad…"

Cold glares were shot towards the younger newsie, who instinctively cowered underneath their chill. Slash grabbed him by the collar, yanking him to look him in his dark, cold eyes.

"Who cares about _their _leader, Swing? _Our _leader has just been murdered, and _his _newsies did it! Are you gonna defend the _murderers_? Do you _agree _with what's been done to Jeremiah? Why, I ought to-!"

"Enough!" Harley spat, shoving Slash backwards and pulling Swing from his grip. Swing quickly nodded his thanks before getting out of her way; everyone knew to back up when Harley was mad. "We can't fight with one another, not now! Look, Jeremiah's dead and there will be a cold day in hell before we let this just pass over! But we can't do it independently… Someone has to step up to the plate and lead us into it."

Bobby's large, muscular arm shot into their. "I was close to Jeremiah. I'll do it."

"No!" Slash spat at his self-nomination. "You can't just vote yourself to that position!"

"Oh, and why not?" Bobby snarled right back. "Do you think _you _deserve it?"

"I never thought about it," Slash replied with sarcastic inquisitiveness, his buddies starting to form a small group behind him, "but now that I do, I know that _I _am a _much _better choice than you are!"

"Is that a challenge?" Bobby's supporters mocked Slash's movements and instantly the once-united, grief-stricken newsies were pitted against each other. Filly and Harley did not take sides; they simply watched.

"Are you too afraid to take it?"

And that was it. Those words ignited a fuse in every boy there and suddenly the area erupted with fists and shouting. It was newsie against newsie, and although all from the same alliance, all were determined to prove themselves on the winning and worthy side.

Filly shrieked and jumped back, Harley too moving away out of alarm. She looked over; Jeremiah's body had since been forgotten about and dumped on the dirty ground outside the Lodging House. He stared up at her with cold, lifeless eyes, and Harley shuddered. It was scary to think that such a nice young man had been forgotten in about in such short time. It would never make sense to her that a simple title could divide one into two and leave a life in the dust behind the fight.

"Filly…" Harley spoke at last, the boys still too wound up in their riot to notice them. "C'mon. We're getting out of here."

Filly, still too shocked to speak, nodded slowly and allowed Harley to drag her away from the bitter scene that only a few minutes prior had been so calm.

_Meh… _Harley thought. _Nothing ever lasts…_


End file.
